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approaching from behind and kissing their shoulder as the other watches in the mirror
For Declan Rice?
Thank u🫶
LONG WAY HOME - DECLAN RICE
masterlist | world cup party | make a request here
summary: relieving the tension after a long week of working away.
warnings: smut. oral sex. idk it just ended up here.
You heard the soft click of the front door closing from the bedroom of your city apartment. Declan was home. He'd been working away over the last couple of days, and it had been a struggle for the both of you. You weren't used to it; it was a whole new territory that you had to navigate.
He shuffled through the entryway — kicking his shoes off and nudging them to the side, dropping his kit bag to the floor, and throwing his England-branded jacket over the arm chair.He made his way through the apartment, seeking you out. He moved between darkened rooms, following the natural pathway of the apartment, until he reached the bedroom.
When he stepped inside, the room was dimly lit. You'd opted for lamps that decorated either side of the bed and emitted a warm but subdued glow, and the fruit-scented set of candles that occupied your vanity and dresser. The room was soft and cosy, just what you both needed for the much-anticipated reunion.
You stood in front of the floor to ceiling mirror, and spied Declan slipping through the crack in the bedroom door immediately. The corners of your lips curled upwards in fondness at the sight and an affectionate haze glazed over your eyes. You let out a soft breath as your eyes followed him in the reflection — crossing the room, his own gaze set on you.
You felt the warmth of his hands on your skin, gliding over your bare shoulders and sliding down your arms until he ran out of limb. His chest pressed gently against your back, his chin tucked into the crook of your neck. You felt the harshness of his slightly overgrown stubble graze against your delicate skin; a usual sensation that would make your toes curl and your brow furrow but, tonight, it was a much welcomed feeling.
As his attentive hands slipped around your waist, you felt him huff out a breath of hot air. Declan placed a sweet but brief kiss into the crook of your neck and let his eyes close. He was still for a moment — letting the tensions of the day dissipate before resuming. Because that's what you were to him. His safe space. His calm.
"Long day?" you ask with a whist voice, but you already knew. The intense training sessions already took a toll on Declan, and the two-hour drive back to your city apartment on top of that wasn't the easiest on him.
"Long day," he confirmed with a subtle nod. His voice was rough and edged with exhaustion. The way his broad shoulders sagged as he let out another deep breath of air told you he was spent.
The tip of his nose grazed ever so softly along the line of your neck and dipped down against the base of your neck. His soft lips trailed over the exposed skin, leaving loving, little kisses along the way. The warmth of the gesture prickled at your skin — in that delightful way you'd grown so accustomed to — and left a tingle in their wake.
You watched his every move in the reflection of the mirror with a careful gaze.
He continued along your shoulder as his rough palms began to wander. They traced the curvature of your waistline in slow, appreciative strokes. Up, then back down. "Missed you," he mumbled lowly against your skin, lips grazing down the plains of your shoulder blade. "So much." His final words were a ghost of a whisper against your skin, sending a fmailiar shiver riplling down your spine.
Your next move was slow. You turned on your toes to face him, eyes meeting his for a terse moment. Then, you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him. Your head tipped back and your soft eyes peered upwards, doe-like and innocent.
With a gentle touch, you pushed his sweatpants and boxers down. Your hand wrapped around the base of his length in such a caring gesture, and stroked him from the base to the very tip. Your thumb brushed over the tip, massaging it gently, before sliding all the way back down to the base. You repeated the gesture again, and again, and again.
Declan's head flew back as a low groan slipped out of his mouth. His eyes closed as he enjoyed the romantic gesture. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and his lips parted as he succumbed to the pleasure that was quickly making it's way through his tense body.
A loud, gutteral moan ripped through his vocal chords when your tongue circled the tip. You brought your mouth up and sucked gently on his head, tongue continuing to swirl around. Just how he liked it.
Your welcoming tongue traced a slow line down his length — from tip to base. A shiver erupted down Declan's spine and a low, satisfied moan echoed around the bedroom. His palm moved to the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your soft wisps, and holding you in position with a gentle authority.
You finally stopped teasing him and take his length in your mouth. It was slow to begin with as your head begins to move, bobbing back and forth in a steady rhythm. You took your time, taking care of him in the way you know he'd been craving over the last couple of days.
Declan's palm guides your rhythm, slow and languid, as he savours every moment of your mouth around him. His hips move gently, thrusting into your mouth as you take him in — just enough to get a slight thrill out of it, but not enough to hurt you. You let him, taking him well, knowing just how much he needs to work out the tension.
A moan rolls off his tongue — gravelly and needy. Then, another, with a heavy breath. Finally, with a deep grunt, he spills into your mouth, his strong hand pushing your head lightly against him.
You swallow, and he lets out a satisfied sigh as his shoulder drop. Finally relaxed.
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approaching from behind and kissing their shoulder as the other watches in the mirror
For Declan Rice?
Thank u🫶
LONG WAY HOME - DECLAN RICE
masterlist | world cup party | make a request here
summary: relieving the tension after a long week of working away.
warnings: smut. oral sex. idk it just ended up here.
You heard the soft click of the front door closing from the bedroom of your city apartment. Declan was home. He'd been working away over the last couple of days, and it had been a struggle for the both of you. You weren't used to it; it was a whole new territory that you had to navigate.
He shuffled through the entryway — kicking his shoes off and nudging them to the side, dropping his kit bag to the floor, and throwing his England-branded jacket over the arm chair.He made his way through the apartment, seeking you out. He moved between darkened rooms, following the natural pathway of the apartment, until he reached the bedroom.
When he stepped inside, the room was dimly lit. You'd opted for lamps that decorated either side of the bed and emitted a warm but subdued glow, and the fruit-scented set of candles that occupied your vanity and dresser. The room was soft and cosy, just what you both needed for the much-anticipated reunion.
You stood in front of the floor to ceiling mirror, and spied Declan slipping through the crack in the bedroom door immediately. The corners of your lips curled upwards in fondness at the sight and an affectionate haze glazed over your eyes. You let out a soft breath as your eyes followed him in the reflection — crossing the room, his own gaze set on you.
You felt the warmth of his hands on your skin, gliding over your bare shoulders and sliding down your arms until he ran out of limb. His chest pressed gently against your back, his chin tucked into the crook of your neck. You felt the harshness of his slightly overgrown stubble graze against your delicate skin; a usual sensation that would make your toes curl and your brow furrow but, tonight, it was a much welcomed feeling.
As his attentive hands slipped around your waist, you felt him huff out a breath of hot air. Declan placed a sweet but brief kiss into the crook of your neck and let his eyes close. He was still for a moment — letting the tensions of the day dissipate before resuming. Because that's what you were to him. His safe space. His calm.
"Long day?" you ask with a whist voice, but you already knew. The intense training sessions already took a toll on Declan, and the two-hour drive back to your city apartment on top of that wasn't the easiest on him.
"Long day," he confirmed with a subtle nod. His voice was rough and edged with exhaustion. The way his broad shoulders sagged as he let out another deep breath of air told you he was spent.
The tip of his nose grazed ever so softly along the line of your neck and dipped down against the base of your neck. His soft lips trailed over the exposed skin, leaving loving, little kisses along the way. The warmth of the gesture prickled at your skin — in that delightful way you'd grown so accustomed to — and left a tingle in their wake.
You watched his every move in the reflection of the mirror with a careful gaze.
He continued along your shoulder as his rough palms began to wander. They traced the curvature of your waistline in slow, appreciative strokes. Up, then back down. "Missed you," he mumbled lowly against your skin, lips grazing down the plains of your shoulder blade. "So much." His final words were a ghost of a whisper against your skin, sending a fmailiar shiver riplling down your spine.
Your next move was slow. You turned on your toes to face him, eyes meeting his for a terse moment. Then, you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him. Your head tipped back and your soft eyes peered upwards, doe-like and innocent.
With a gentle touch, you pushed his sweatpants and boxers down. Your hand wrapped around the base of his length in such a caring gesture, and stroked him from the base to the very tip. Your thumb brushed over the tip, massaging it gently, before sliding all the way back down to the base. You repeated the gesture again, and again, and again.
Declan's head flew back as a low groan slipped out of his mouth. His eyes closed as he enjoyed the romantic gesture. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and his lips parted as he succumbed to the pleasure that was quickly making it's way through his tense body.
A loud, gutteral moan ripped through his vocal chords when your tongue circled the tip. You brought your mouth up and sucked gently on his head, tongue continuing to swirl around. Just how he liked it.
Your welcoming tongue traced a slow line down his length — from tip to base. A shiver erupted down Declan's spine and a low, satisfied moan echoed around the bedroom. His palm moved to the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your soft wisps, and holding you in position with a gentle authority.
You finally stopped teasing him and take his length in your mouth. It was slow to begin with as your head begins to move, bobbing back and forth in a steady rhythm. You took your time, taking care of him in the way you know he'd been craving over the last couple of days.
Declan's palm guides your rhythm, slow and languid, as he savours every moment of your mouth around him. His hips move gently, thrusting into your mouth as you take him in — just enough to get a slight thrill out of it, but not enough to hurt you. You let him, taking him well, knowing just how much he needs to work out the tension.
A moan rolls off his tongue — gravelly and needy. Then, another, with a heavy breath. Finally, with a deep grunt, he spills into your mouth, his strong hand pushing your head lightly against him.
You swallow, and he lets out a satisfied sigh as his shoulder drop. Finally relaxed.
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âś“ Live Streamingâś“ Interactive Chatâś“ Private Showsâś“ HD Qualityâś“ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
anyway world cup over what a fantastic final match between england and france with england winning! no other important matches happening and no other teams are still in the game
can i request a part 2 to the john stones friends to lovers imagine?
ALL THE WORDS UNSPOKEN - JOHN STONES
masterlist | world cup party | make a request here
summary: a drunken summer evening in the hot tub leads to firm hands, dirty laughs, and questionable shots.
warnings: not much? just drunk again, the tits are out again, and a painful slowburn.
You were drunk — tipsy, even — with an unbridled sense of carefree. You'd spent the afternoon sipping homemade sangria and taking vodka shots in the back garden of a beach-front villa in Torquay with your friends. Of course you felt so lighthearted, and the alochol in your veins had made way for a lack of inhibitions.
John watched on from the hot tub, his grey-green eyes wandering between the football match on the mounted TV and the symphony of giggles and naughties R&B music that erupted from the rattan sofas periodically. Shot glasses clinked together in another round, probably a few too many times, and the sweet, fruity smell of your communal vape lingered in the air occasionally.
A particularly loud laugh caught his attention. His nonchalant eyes flicked to you as he brought his half-empty bottle of beer to his lips, grazing it along his bottom lip. He took a swig as you laughed animatedly. He couldn't hear the joke, but it had clearly amused you. Your back arched against the cream cushions. Your head fell back. Your chin tipped upwards, and your lips parted with each giggle. Your throat pulsed along the long line of your neck. Your cheeks were tinged with a faint rouge — part from the heat of the sun, and part from the alcohol that coursed through you. Your lips curled upwards, and there was a sprightly glint in your eye.
"That's me not getting fuckin' laid tonight," Jordan grumbled from beside him, pulling John's attention back to the three men in the hot tub. His chin jutted upwards, gesturing to the drunken state of his missus, as he swigged his beer. "Fuckin' state of 'em," he rolled his eyes.
"Oi," John responded with a gravelly laugh, "your room's next to mine. There'll be no fuckin' shaggin' at all." He took a mouthful of his own beer. "I'm not listening to that."
Jordan opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by another chorus of high-pitched laughter.
All three pairs of eyes — John, Jordan and Dan — snapped to the direction of the patio. You and Jordan's missus had stood from the sofas, and were making your way towards the hot tub, where they'd been sat for the better part of an hour. Your hair was down for once and flowing in the rare breeze. You wore a t-shirt, that definitely wasn't yours and had been tied into a cropped style, over your bikini. The red straps peeked above the collar around your neck, and you'd slipped out olf your denim shorts early in the afternoon. A pair of gold, hoop earrings dangled from your ears as you carried a bottle of Grey Goose Vodka in your hand. Jordan's missus carried five shot glasses.
"Here we fuckin' go, lads," Jordan let out a huff of air as he watched his missus walk along the astro turf. He raised his voice and gestured with a point of his finger, "fuck off out of 'ere with the shots." His words were rough but there wasn't an ounce of heat in them whatsoever.
You laughed at his playful taunt and slipped out of the t-shirt. You were pretty sure it was John's t-shirt. John was positive that it was his t-shirt.
"What's that, Picks?" you teased with a low laugh, as you stepped over the edge of the hot tub and into the bubbling water, "you want three shots?"
The first step was fine, but the second took you off guard. It was deeper than you expected. No second step. You were already unsteady as it was, your balance subpar from the alcohol, and you slipped. An instinctive squeal ripped through your throat as you felt the cold and sticky wet of the flavoured vodka spill down your front, falling backwards.
John's sturdy arm moved to your back in an instant — his response swift but the action somewhat nonchalant. His muscles tauted, taking the weight of your clumsy body, as the warmth of his palm spread across your spine; and, more importantly, was the rigid support holding the back of your head from cracking against the wooden frame of the hot tub. His concerned eyes flicked from the TV screen down to you, but when he saw your features upturned in amusement — and heard the devilish sound of your cackle — he eased up.
After a brief second to steady yourself, you slowly lowered yourself back, your ass finding the edge of the seat under the bubbles. His hand guided you backwards slowly in a gentle gesture until the back of your head rested against his broad shoulder. You kept the open bottle of vodka upright to avoid anymore spillages.
You tipped your head back, an audacious smile on your lips, and peered up at him with doe-like eyes. Oh, you were wasted. "Who's playing?"
"Spain and Argentina," he said and takes another swig of his beer.
"Who do we want to win?" you asked, curiousity laced within your tone. You didn't give a second thought to football usually — but John, Jordan, Dan, and the other two men who'd been roped into the trip did.
"Not fuckin' Argentina," Dan responded for the collective.
"What's Neymar ever done to you?" you pouted playfully with a furrowed brow and turn your head to look at Dan. Your cheek brushed against John's shoulder with the movement, the stray wisps of your hair tickling his skin.
"Not play for Argentina for a start," Dan snorted.
"That sounds like you need a shot." A wicked grin twisted your features as you straightened your posture, gesturing for the shot glasses that Jordan's missus was holding.
You poured everyone a generous shot and handed them out. Shot glasses clicnked together in a quick toast before the liquid was gone. Jordan flinched at the burn, Dan coughed, and John screwed his stubble-lined features up.
"Pussies," Jordan's missus teased.
A mischievious glint brghtened your glazed-over eyes as you turned your head to Dan. You held the bottle up, gesturing a pouring motion — offering him more.
"Fuck off," he laughed.
Your eyes shifted to Jordan and you raised the bottle even more.
"Not with your fuckin' clumsy hand," Jordan declined not so politely. He knew what you were getting at.
Then, your twisted your silhouette all the way around once more so your hazy eyes landed on John. A challenging smirk quirked the corners of your lips upwards as you batted your eyelashes at him expectantly.
John let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. No.
It didn't last long, though. You raised the bottle even higher, an almost pleading looking in your wide eyes. That was all it took for him to cave.
He tipped his head back and opened his mouth. You let out a filthy giggle as you held the bottle of Grey Goose above his mouth, then tipped it. The vodka poured into his mouth, and he let you carry on pouring probably more than he wanted to, before nudging the bottle way with his knuckles. The clear liquid spilt down his face and throat, but at least it wasn't his mouth. He swallowed and let out a groan at the burn.
Your giggle echoed through the garden space once more. Oh, you looked so pleased with yourself.
"Give me that—" John reached for the now almost empty bottle, "—you've lost your privileges." He took the bottle from you with ease, despite your attempts to hold it out of his reach, and passed it over a safer pair of hands.
You didn't mind, though. You settled down in the corner seat — your feet stretched out along the bench beside you. Your dainty feet resting against John's tattooed thigh, but you were quiet. Your toes were restless, however, digging gently into his muscle as your gaze wandered to the football match. And he let you.
jude had been down since you both got back to your hotel room.
the loss was unimaginable.
you knew that all the boys had dreamed of going to the final but it just hurt even more knowing how well they started out.
jude sighed and sat down on the bed, his head in his hands, “we were so close to the finals”, his voice muffled.
your heart broke.
you wrapped your arms around his neck, his face in your chest, “it’s not your fault, jude, you were so good”, you planted a kiss on his forehead.
he pulled away and looked up at you, “i could’ve done so much more”, his voice croaked
“you did your best and that’s all that matters, especially to me”, you smiled down at him.
he sighed as you began to slowly rub at his shoulders, relieving tension and stress, “love you”, he mumbled.
“i know”, you giggled.
he stands up, his height dominating the room, “maybe i can make you feel good, baby”.
you shook your head lightly and fiddled with the waistband of his boxers, “tonight is about you”, you pecked his lips, “and your amazing performance”.
you sunk to your knees, pulling his boxers down on the way.
his length sprung out, hot and leaking pre-cum.
you kitten licked the tip, teasing him gently. jude looked down at you, lust in his eyes, “don’t play with me, baby”.
you took his tip in your mouth, sucking softly, giving him that relief that he needed.
his head was thrown back, his adams apple bobbing as you bobbed your head.
jude grunted as your swirled your tongue around his length.
his hand found your hair, forcing you further down his cock and at a faster pace.
your eyes widened slightly and you pressed your hands to his solid thighs, bracing yourself.
he continued to ram himself into your mouth at a forceful pace, using you.
“good girl, got such a perfect mouth”, he groaned as you felt tears filling your eyes.
you squeezed his thighs as you continued to work around his cock, taking every inch.
quickly, he released his salty seed into your mouth, watching you swallow all of it.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
âś“ Live Streamingâś“ Interactive Chatâś“ Private Showsâś“ HD Qualityâś“ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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